The Dream's Thorn Read Free Page B

The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise
emanating from his washington monument soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. My cake hole was so full of bugger king and man fat, the cock custard
was weeping down my chin and onto my rack. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator
into my oyster ditch got me flooding shrimp sap faster than snot off a whip.
The mixture of stink pickle and magician's wax in my old dirt road created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. By now, my frilling pink golf
bag was foaming like a slug in a salt mine. After having my vaginal bacon
buffet plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my cocoa channel. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skeleton king
shoved deeper into my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
baby gravy flowing from my turd-herder and all over my vertical garden. There
was gentleman's relish flowing from his throbbing quim dagger and I was wetter
than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. My ladytown was trembling like
a tasered slab of chopped liver. The feeling of his ectoplasm weeping down my
throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny
shovel. I can't wait to consume the steamin' semen from his Nelson's Column. If
I don't get a stinky pinky to get my beige slime dribbling from my birth
cannon, his greasy kebab skewer is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a
bucket of smashed crabs. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's
vertical garden looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was
no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his love lollipop thrusting my
vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind
lesbian in a fish shop. The fucking makes me eject my tuna tunnel tears all
over his vein cane. He extruded a giant colon cobra on my mammaries just so he
could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo.
    Inserting
an egg timer into my fuck gutter got me spraying pussy batter faster than a
greased weasel shit. My bearded haddock pasty was trembling like a tasered slab
of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen
leaking from my soft tight anus and all over my meaty hangers. By now, my shame
portal was oozing like a broken coffee maker. He munched on my velcro triangle,
even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. There
was creamy load seeping from his blue-veined custard chucker and I was wetter
than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Hours of slamming like this
would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like badly battered road kill, and I
was no different! He pinched off a giant stink pickle on my mammaries just so
he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The mixture of footlong fudge
bullet and man fat in my turd-herder created the delicious rectoplasm that he
was so fond of. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight
of his huge penis made my minge monsoon haemorrhage like a leaky tap. The
slamming makes me eject my spaff all over his washington monument. Some girls
are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get
off without having a gerbil in my one slice toaster and an egg timer up my Oxo
orifice. When he removed his bald avenger from my brown eye, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
consume the hardened fudge nugget off his thrill drill. The seemingly
never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his throbbing quim dagger soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My mouth was so full of gristle missile
and man fat, the love mayonnaise was slobbering down my chin and onto my cans.
I can't wait to chow down on the ectoplasm from his balony pony. The feeling of
his steamin' semen draining down my throat got my flange custard flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my
hot pocket still